Kili was twenty-six when his soulmate’s name appeared on the inside of his lower left arm. The talk surrounding him increased rather than decreased after the occurrence, shifting from the oddness of not having a mark to the queerness of his mark. A name none had heard of, that did not have a dwarven ring to it at all. What did it mean? Was he cursed? the whispers ran.
But every night for decades when Kili went to bed he held his arm to his chest. You are mine and I am yours, no matter who you are. I love you, he willed the thought to reach his other half.
Truthfully, Bilbo Baggins did not catch everything Balin said when he had asked her to help; but she most certainly caught the significant long glance the advisor cast Kili whom was deep in conversation with Tauriel. It would be a lie to claim Bilbo did not have some experience when it came to matchmaking. So, pushing aside her own personal, unvoiced feelings, she had agreed.
It was not extremely difficult to do. Oft enough she and the prince would "accidentally" encounter the elven captain, and soon after the Halfling slipped away on some pretense to give them privacy with barely a protest from either. Also, being such a small, adorable, and heroic creature went a long way as she slowly attempted to help Thorin, Fili, Thranduil, and Legolas warm up to the idea of such a match.
So it took the lass by surprise weeks later when a thoroughly frustrated and slightly angry Kili confronted her over constantly abandoning him.
“Balin requested…you and Tauriel,” she stammered, bewildered.
His upset expression changed to incredulousness. “It was you, you silly hobbit! Only you!”
Then Bilbo was much too busy, happily discovering how strong Kili’s arms were as well as the sweetness of his kiss, to care about such things as misunderstandings and explanations.
Kili had never hated elves unlike his kin, instead viewing them with a secret curiosity. But now, as the elven twins made off with Miss Baggins for the fourth time today, he sulked like a child. What did they have that she preferred their company to his?
Bilbo had always adored elves, having grown up reading and hearing about them; Rivendell had been heavenly. However, with Tauriel’s frequent visits to Kili in the tent of healing, and hearing what had passed between the two in Lake-town, the Halfling was beginning to nurse a strong annoyance toward the creatures.
The first time she hears any of the dwarves call her something other than the usual Halfling or burglar is when she finds herself looking down, down, down on the company while tension and pain spreads through her limbs like fire as Kili screams, “BILBO!”
It is a truth universally acknowledged that hobbits are vastly content in their little kingdom, enjoying peace and comfort, never doing anything unexpected or going on adventures and being late for dinner. Thus none know about little Bilbo Baggins’s secret collection of dwarven stuff. That she often swims up to the surface. She has rescued a handsome prince from drowning when his ship sunk during a storm. How she wishes to be a part of his world. Why she disappears after the creature known as Gandalf comes and speaks of quests and dwarves…
“Why ever do hobbits use mistletoe during Yule?” Kili grumbled, holding the plant between two fingertips. His nose wrinkled.
“It is a popular custom,” Bilbo stated, lifting her eyebrows.
“It is worthless.”
“Look, I’ll show you. Hold it like this,” she said, moving his arm so that the mistletoe was hanging over their heads. “And then…” She kissed him. A giggle escaped her at his startled expression. “A Yule custom of kissing under the mistletoe,” she proclaimed.
Kili blinked. “Strange…I like it.” Then proceeded to shake the plant and kiss his wife again.
Somehow Bilbo does not scream at the quiet, slightly amused sounding voice and her hand jerks back as though burned by dragon fire. Wide-eyed, she looks down at Kili who watches her through low-lidded eyes, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.
“Master Kili! I’m sorry! Master Nori said I ought to practice—”
“It is in the right, middle pocket on the inside,” he nods at the coat on the ground between them.
When the prince only gazes back at the lass with an air of expectancy while she gapes at him, she shakes herself and starts to follow his directions.
“The taking of one’s personal items usually signifies an overture of courtship to us dwarves.”
Freezing, she looks at him once more, feeling like she is blushing from head to toe. She can do no more than splutter though, the young archer waving something in the air between his fingers. It takes Bilbo several seconds to recognize it as the impromptu handkerchief Bofur offered her long ago. Which she had misplaced.
Mind spinning, heart racing, the hobbit looks between it and Kili repeatedly, wondering if this is another one of his pranks. Yet in the moonlight she sees a rare heightened flush is in his cheeks; and there is an air of uncertainty in his body language as he struggles to meet her green eyes. Before she can argue with herself, she retrieves the dwarf’s pipe and quickly returns to her bedroll, aware of the prince’s heavy stare on her back.
If after that the adorableness between the two increases as the group travels on, well, it is only to be expected.